


Simple and Pure

by Poohzhunny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poohzhunny/pseuds/Poohzhunny
Summary: A short story for r/dragonage writing prompt challenge 1 of the week: to write in the POV of someone I find it hard to empathize with.





	Simple and Pure

The sound of the archdemon flying above them had almost paralyzed him when he’d first heard it. Then, before he knew it, flames began engulfing Haven, explosions shattering hopes and dreams that had only just begun. Screams rose around them as the horror sank within their hearts while the monstrous Red Templars cut through the Inquisition forces and refugees. Chancellor Roderick looked for help but there was none. Everyone ran, or fought - most died before the monsters that found them.

Roderick shook himself. The Chantry’s stone walls could protect them... at least for a time. He called out to anyone nearby, directing them inside and making sure the doors stayed shut once they were inside. A Red Templar came over the path, sword drawn. The sneer of cruelty on his features turned to anticipation as he spotted the cleric standing alone in front of the doors. He slapped his sword against his shield, his posture imposing as approached.

“You will not pass!” Roderick had never been so afraid in his life, nor so enraged. How dare the Templars turn against the Chantry? How dare they corrupt everything they stood for for this madness? Red veins drew across the Red Templar’s skin, like so many spiderwebs; you could feel the corruption emanating from him as he came within striking distance. A dry chuckle rose from his throat as the weapon swung. The Chancellor somehow managed to dodge the first blow and ran into the armoured opponent, shoulder first, but he was not armed, nor was he a fighter. The sword turned and the hilt knocked him aside. The Templar grabbed him by the shoulder and, before he could recover, the blade plunged into Roderick’s abdomen, the long slice of metal against flesh resounding in his ears.

The Templar’s eyes suddenly grew large and he took a step away from the cleric who fell back against the Chantry’s wall. Blood seeped onto the snow, flowing down Roderick’s boots now that the sword had been pulled from him. The Red Templar searched for an enemy with a frantic look. Two flashes to his right drew his attention but he was too late. Daggers found their mark deep into his sides. A quick spin from the strange boy with the large hat and he was out of reach again, the blades plunging into his back. The boy stepped back, ready to dodge any further attacks but the monster fell, face first, into the snow.

Voices came up the path. People were running in their direction. The Herald and her group of companions, covered in blood and soot, had been fighting down below; running for the Chantry now that the dragon had appeared. Several survivors had made it to the Chantry thank to the Herald and her friends, rescued from burning buildings and ruins. The Chancellor hung his head in shame at his treatment of her since the explosion at the Conclave. So much had gone wrong. The fear in the air consumed everyone, and Roderick was loathe to admit he’d been too quick to judge.

He stood up on his feet to wave the companions inside. “Move! Keep Going! The Chantry is your shelter!” He collapsed into the arms of the young boy and the Chantry doors closed behind them - a brief reprieve from the dragon’s obliterating breath. He collapsed into a chair, holding his wound as best he could to keep the blood from leaking out.

Commander Cullen came into the room to report to the Herald. Things were dire. What could anyone do against an archdemon? Roderick sat as they discussed strategy, their voices blending into a haze. His strength waned, his head was hazy, his vision almost blurred at the edges, yet he heard the boy’s voice clear as day when he said: “Yes. That. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.” Had he been mumbling to himself and the boy heard him? Roderick didn’t know, but he didn’t question, a glimmer of a memory grasping the edge of his consciousness.

“There is a path.” The Herald listened as he described a way out for the refugees of Haven. A way to get everyone to safety if the attention of the creature could be drawn away from them long enough for one last strike against it. Her eyes, the same slanted elven eyes he’d thought never belonged in the Chantry before - and certainly not as a Herald of Andraste - held his gaze and he grew calm. Things were dire, yet she faced everything with a steadfast stoicism that took his breath away. “She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you.”

Cullen gave directions to some of the soldiers to accompany the Chancellor through the path with the refugees. The boy helped him stand, ready to depart but Roderick held back for a moment. He couldn’t leave her to stay behind for all of them without reaching out. “Herald... if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” She nodded in acknowledgement, her gaze following him as he walked away to show the Summer Pilgrimage out of the Chantry.

He knew it would be the last time he’d ever see the Herald, or Haven. As they made their way through the snow, his failing limbs struggling to continue on the journey, he drew strength from the thought that she’d be watching over those he saved today. His thoughts wandered to her throughout the path; his pain faded away in the contemplation that he’d helped at last. His breathing grew ragged, but he smiled, serene. Simple and pure, the Herald had reminded him of why he’d joined the Chantry all those many years ago. The feeling of faith he’d forgotten. _I hope I did enough._

 


End file.
